


Sketches

by acercrea



Series: Art and Mats [3]
Category: Football RPF
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Prequel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-18
Updated: 2016-09-18
Packaged: 2018-08-15 16:48:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,563
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8064283
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/acercrea/pseuds/acercrea
Summary: Calla can't believe her luck when she realizes that the hot guy she is sketching at the coffee shop across from her school is a famous footballer. What happens when he discovers she is doing it?





	

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: This is a prequel to Paper and Watches, but you don’t need to read that one first unless you want to. There are callbacks (or maybe in this case call forwards?) to that one, but they are subtle.
> 
> Discalimer: I don’t own anything you recognize, I am not making money of this, and my Mats is very much fictional, much to my dismay.

 

The first time I met him we were at a café, sitting on the patio. He was sipping a cappuccino with a sleepy looking dog resting near his feet, a paper folded open in one hand, a pen in the other, a look of concentration furrowing his perfect brow. He was so gorgeous that at first I didn’t really recognize him. It was like looking at the sun, I could see him but looking for distinct features was almost more than I could bear.

I was halfway through my first sketch before I realized who the golden Adonis sitting one table over was and it was enough to still my hand. Surely he wouldn’t want to be sketched by a stranger, but it couldn’t be the first time someone had done something like this. Besides, he was across the street from an art school. I could see at least 5 other people sketching from where I sat without turning my head. Granted I seemed to be the only one who was sketching him, but a couple of them seemed to be sketching other people at least.

I finally made up my mind as I was staring at my half-finished drawing. I was filled with an almost desperate need to finish it and knew there was no way I was going to be able to do it justice from memory later. I didn’t care if it was creepy, I was going to finish what I had started.

I was so disappointed when I finally looked back up and saw that his seat was empty. The mug was sitting on the table, paper discarded next to the cup, a ten Euro note tucked under the saucer. I was looking for him so franticly on the sidewalks that I jumped when he spoke from behind me.

“I knew it! You are drawing me,” he accused.

“Um,” I stuttered, wishing that the earth would open up and swallow me whole. He was looking at me with the sternest look I had ever seen and I knew that he wasn’t going to stop until I said something, so I clumsily continued, “I mean, technically yes, but I didn’t recognize you right away and when I did I actually considered not finishing the sketch, because it felt like an invasion of privacy, but then I thought that if you were just some random guy I would absolutely finish the sketch, because I have come to this café so many times and sketched random people between classes, so I kept going, but you are looking at me like I have done something bad so I am going to just going to finish my drink and leave.”

I was packing up my pencils and erasers when he finally spoke. “Can I see your sketches?” he asked, the sternness fading from his face a bit.

“What?” I questioned, looking up at him in confusion.

“Not just the one you didn’t finish of me, anything in your book you are ok with me seeing. From what I understand this is a very good art school, so you must be very good if you go to school here. I would like to see your work,” he requested, reaching his hand towards the large book I was trying to shove in my bag.

“Um, sure, I guess,” I shrugged, handing it to him.

“Is there anything in here that you don’t want me to look at?” Mats asked as he took the sketchbook and opened it.

“No, everything in this book is ok, nothing private,” I said, trying to read his expression as he flipped through the book.

“Hm,” he hummed as he flipped through the book. He would occasionally linger on a page, his brow creasing in concentration, or a smile ghosting on his face.

After about 5 minutes I couldn’t stand the silence, so I asked him, “Do you know much about art?”

“A little bit, I needed a humanities credit in high school, so I took art history. At the time I thought it would be a good place to meet girls,” he commented.

“Did you meet any?” I questioned.

“A couple,” he replied distractedly with a nod.

After a couple more minutes he shut the book, looking me in the eye as he said, “These are good. The lines are clean, there is a sense of depth, your sketches are so real I half expect them to jump off the page. Ok, you have my permission.”

“Permission for what?” I inquired.

“You can finish the sketch. Do you need me to go back to my table to preserve the perspective or can I join you here?” Mats asked, handing me back the sketchbook.

“You want to join me at my table?” I questioned, not sure why an international football superstar would want to sit with me.

“Yes, unless it will make it difficult to finish the drawing,” he clarified, his expression hopeful.

“No, it won’t make it difficult at all, please join me,” I requested, gesturing to an empty chair at my table, not wanting to press the luck that had led to this turn of events any further than I already had.

With a blindingly bright smile he quickly grabbed his nearly empty cup and the paper and moved over to my table, settling across from me and waving over a waitress who was passing by.

“Can I get you something else?” the waitress asked.

“Yes, I will take another Cappuccino, would you like something else, um,” Mats faltered, trailing off.

“Oh, my name is Calla,” I replied to him, before turning to the waitress, “I will take another Eisschoko, please.”

“Coming up,” the waitress promised, clearing our empty cups.

By the time she had brought out our new drinks I had finished the first sketch and at Mats’ instance I had started another.

We sat in the café for 3 hours, talking about everything while I drew sketch after sketch.

As Mats was finishing a very funny story about Bastian and Podolski getting locked out of their room and deciding to climb in through the window to avoid all of the fans hanging out near the front desk, only to get the window wrong and climbing into Coach Löw’s room, I happened to glance at his watch.

“Oh my gosh, is that the time? I hate to do this, but I have to be in class in about 10 minutes, so I have to go. Um, this is probably stupid, because you are a famous footballer, and I am just an art student, but I was wondering if you wanted to do this again sometime? No, that is stupid, you probably have much better offers than me, here, let me get some money for my Eisschokos. I am just going to go now, um, here, these 3 are the best of the lot, you should have them,” I babbled as I tore out the sketches while trying to jam everything into my bag and get out cash for my drinks.

“Calla, slow down,” Mats requested, grabbing my hands, making me go still as I brought my gaze up to his. We just held like that for a moment, just staring into each other’s eyes until he leaned forward. My heart stopped in my chest for a moment when our lips met and then started back up beating triple time when his tongue brushed gently against my lips requesting entry.

We were both breathing heavily when we pulled apart a few moments later. “Calla, I will take the sketches, but I don’t want your money. I had a brilliant time talking with you and I would like to do it again sometime. So how about we exchange numbers and promise to set up a real date sometime this week. I am warning you right now I won’t take no for an answer, so if you want to get to class anytime soon I would suggest you just say yes,” Mats requested.

“I am going to go out on a limb and guess that you don’t hear the word no very often do you?” I asked with a smile.

“Never,” he confirmed with that knee weakening smirk.

“You are lucky you are cute,” I retorted, using one of the pencils I had been gathering to write my number on one of the sketches I was giving him.

He surprised me when I was done and grabbed the pencil and my sketch book from me and opened the cover, writing his own number inside.

“Now we have no excuse. I will see you soon?” he questioned as I stood and slung my bag over my shoulder, standing with me.

“Absolutely,” I promised, leaning in to kiss him one more time before running across the street, slipping into my chair seconds before my professor entered the room.

“Welcome everyone, this week our model fell through, so if you haven’t finished the still life from last week please do so now, if you have please use this time to work on something else, just please do both of those tasks quietly at your own stations,” Professor Kirsch requested, turning us loose with a wave of his hand.

I pulled out my sketchbook, and ran my fingers over his number inside the front cover, marveling over the fact that I was somehow dating Mats Hummels.

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: I hope you liked it, sometimes characters from one or two shots just demand to have their story expanded and that is what happened here. Also, for those who might remember from the first couple parts, the tattoo on her shoulder that is Mats’ favorite is of her namesake flower, a Calla Lily. Please leave me a kudos or a comment if you liked it, I have a couple of stories that are half finished that I hope to finish soon.


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